


What Do You Mean, "Dead"?

by CursedCursingViking



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Character Death, Fun, Gen, Humor, Marvel Universe, Not Canon Compliant, Other, References to Norse Religion & Lore, one word dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22913716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CursedCursingViking/pseuds/CursedCursingViking
Summary: A fun drabble ish fic, format inspired by Redfoxwritesstuff on Tumblr(RedKitsune on AO3).Loki has been wounded in battle and Thor carries him home to Asgard, along with some bad news.
Relationships: Loki/Sigyn (Norse Religion & Lore)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	What Do You Mean, "Dead"?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [RedKitsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedKitsune/pseuds/RedKitsune). Log in to view. 



Thor’s hand was on Loki’s pulse - or where it should have been. There was not even the faintest beat to be found.

Sif stared back at Thor with fearful anticipation. “Dead?” She asked, her voice almost breaking. While she never truly had liked Loki (especially after that despicable prank with her hair as the victim), she loved Thor and Frigga, who she knew loved Loki. Their pain would be unbearable to witness - not to mention for them to feel.

Thor looked up at his best friend. “Dead.” The tears in his voice were clear, but he ignored them as he went to pick up the pale body. 

He carried his sorrow away from the pile of hunted monsters - giant wolves, whose thick fur should have been made into coats for Frigga and Sigyn, and whose death should have brought peace to the small village in Vanaheim - as Heimdall opened the Bifrost for them to cross. 

The smile he had worn to celebrate his friends’ return faded when he saw the state in which they entered. There were no furs over their shoulders. They only carried Loki, who Thor carefully laid down. 

“Dead?” Heimdall asked, even though he knew the answer. Even though he knew it cut deeply in Thor’s heart to tell him. 

“Dead.” 

Heimdall ushered his live friends away from the bloody and wounded body - the guards would carry him on - and all the way to the grand halls where they were met with worried stares. 

Before anyone could ask the question, which would without doubt break Thor if he was asked again, Sif stepped in to explain. “Dead.” Her voice was tight as she nodded in regret. 

“Dead?” “Dead?” The whispers tiptoed around the hall until Odin silenced the room by knocking his spear into the floor. The ‘tonk’ echoed in hos voidful denial. It couldn’t be… 

Frigga, who sat by Odin's side, snapped him back into the moment with her barely-audible sob of shock. Anger welled into his blood as tears welled into her eyes, and with a sharp hand motion, he made a messenger send the word. 

Dead. 

“Dead?” Nana asked in pure disbelief upon hearing the messengers words. 

Baldur was equally confused as he repeated after his wife, “dead?”.

“Dead,” he reassured them and saw how their expressions changed to desperate shock. 

When he came to Njords homestead, he also found his children, Frey and Freya. The three Vanir nodded in respect, understanding the circumstances of which his death had befallen their disloyal acquaintance - disloyal he might have been, but he met his end defending a village in their homeworld. Dead, but nobly so. 

The messenger rode on, past many halls and homesteads, delivering the news, until he arrived at Sigyn’s doorstep. He knocked, and she came to open her door, wearing a smooth robe and holding a hot pink popsicle - undoubtedly much sweeter than the news she was about to receive. 

“Dead.” The man feared how the wife might react, but Sigyn remained calm. 

She stepped aside to turn to look into her living room, at the plushy couch, where Loki lounged - his feet high in the air with toe-dividers and fresh lacquer on his nails, velvet green robe suggestively revealing his toned legs, and a fruity smelling face mask covering in light green from chin to hairline. As he nonchalantly lifted the slice of cucumber covering his right eye to see who interrupted his spa-night-in with his wife, Sigyn turned back to the messenger with an amused and confused smirk. “What do you mean, “dead”?”


End file.
